


little boy blue, we only love you

by gingerbread man (xphantomhive)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cuddling, Emotional Comfort, Feelings, Kisses, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Polyamory, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphantomhive/pseuds/gingerbread%20man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're orange and half-bird; Dave is all sharp angles and a sharp tongue. You suppose it's a good thing that John is the polar opposite of you both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little boy blue, we only love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liight/gifts).



John isn’t like you and Dave.

You’re orange, you’re half-bird, and you have talons instead of fingers. The last time you tried to run them through his hair, you cut his scalp and he bled for three hours straight. You apologized a million times over while he tried to convince you it didn’t hurt, but you’d noticed the way he’d cringed when Dave ran peroxide-covered fingers through his hair and wrapped his head in a too-thick layer of gauze.

Dave isn’t orange, isn’t half-bird, and doesn’t have talons instead of fingers, but John is still world’s different than him. Dave is all sharp angles and a sharp tongue, and once when John snuck up behind him he earned a katana blade pressed hard to his throat. You think Dave apologized more than you did for that, and it bled for longer, and John still promised the both of you it didn’t hurt even though he still cringed when you rubbed peroxide over the cut and Dave wrapped his neck in a too-thick layer of gauze.

John isn’t orange or half-bird, either, and he definitely doesn’t have talons instead of fingers. He has thin pianist fingers with nails bitten down to the core because he’s always worrying, worrying about you, about Dave, about Rose and Jade and all of the trolls. He isn’t sharp angles, stands at least ten inches shorter than Dave and has leftover baby fat. He doesn’t have a sharp tongue, fumbles over the things he says because his mouth works faster than his brain, it always has, but he still makes sarcastic remarks and tells dumb jokes that you and Dave laugh at even if they aren’t funny.

“Dave,” he whispers, and you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or the _actual_ Dave. It’s always hard to decipher, because you aren’t really Dave, you’re Davesprite, but he hasn’t called you that in years and you don’t think he intends to. “ _Dave_ ,” he says again, a little stronger this time, a little louder this time, and you can feel his fingers tangled up in your feathers. It’s you he wants, then.

“Whaddya want, Egbert?” You mumble back, voice addled with sleep. You open your eyes and blink blearily, craning your neck to see him. He’s lying between you and Dave, legs wrapped around your tail (which is wrapped around his thigh, and if Dave were awake, he’d be teasing you about it), pressed snugly against Dave’s chest. Artificial light streams through the window, like it always does, because there is no day or night here. The green sun never disappears, not like the real sun used to. It’s never replaced by the moon.

He doesn’t respond right away, only brushes his fingers calmly through the bunch of feathers around your neck, moving carefully to run them over your wings, and you flinch inwardly when they scrape over your injured one. You’d tried to hide it, but he’s John, and he knows you _and_ Dave like the back of his hand, and he gravitates closer to you and stuffs his face into your chest, mutters, “I’m sorry,” into your feathers. You rub his shoulder to show him that it’s okay, and he smiles against your neck. You sincerely hope he didn’t get a mouthful of feathers.

He still hasn’t told you what he wanted, but you suppose he’s building up to it. It’s always like this with him; he never skirts around anything, never stops for anything, always goes right for the prize even if their are obvious obstacles in his way or even if he insults someone along the way, unless it comes to you or Dave. Then he’s an entirely different person, hesitant and resigned, afraid to reveal how he’s really feeling. You aren’t sure why. “What do you think Jade is up to right now?” He asks after a silent minute, and you nod to yourself. So that’s his issue.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” you reply, and he tenses in your arms. That wasn’t the question he was actually asking you. In fact, he was asking you more than that, asking you _what is Jade doing that’s so important that she has no time to spend with her brother?_ and _do you and Dave care about Jade more than me?_ so you give him the response he’s really looking for. “She’s doing important Witch of Space shit, dude. Trying to get us out of this godforsaken game, I bet.”

He’s still tense, and that means you haven’t answered the question fully. “Not like I really give a shit, though. Dave and I both experienced the period of having a little crush on Harley, but that’s because she was the only girl who wasn’t trying to psychoanalyze us and we hadn’t realized that we were all for dicks and not boobs.”

John’s gone limp in your arms by the time you’ve finished, but you know he’s still awake because he lets out a breathy giggle. His fingers curl around your uninjured wing, and his free hand moves to scratch your neck. You let out an embarrassing little _peep_ , and he giggles again. “God, what the fuck are you dumbasses doing, it’s like three in the fucking morning earth-time,” you hear from next to John, and you chuckle. John snorts. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

“Shut your face, Dave,” John quips back, turning away from you. You’re almost ready to complain, but then he grabs your wrist and pulls him along with you while he shifts closer to Dave. The three of you end up an absolute mess of limbs and feathers. John’s legs are tangled up in Dave’s, your tail is wrapped around John’s thigh, and he has one hand on your feathers and the other in Dave’s hair. “We were having a feelings jam.”

Dave looks a little more awake now, but sleep still hangs heavy in his red eyes, and you can tell he isn’t quite fully awake yet. “And you didn’ invite me? Y’all are assholes,” Dave drawls, and you resist the urge to laugh at his accent. “Can I at least get a quick summary of the feelin’s jam that my boyfriends so kindly _didn’_ invite me to?”

“It’s top secret,” John says.

“He’s worried we still pop boners for Harley,” you say.

“Look, that Harley thing is _so_ 2011, so calm your shit, alright?” Dave says, obviously trying to hold back laughter. John is glaring fiercely at the both of you, so Dave leans in to give him a small peck that somehow turns into a makeout session in ten seconds flat. You wait until Dave slips him tongue to remind them that you’re still here, and John turns and starts kissing you instead.

“You get a turn too,” he mumbles against your lips, and you laugh because he’s so sweet that it’s dumb. You can feel your heart swelling in your chest, if sprites even have hearts. “Now you have nothing to complain about.”

He looks pleased with himself, and it’s utterly adorable. Adorable and sweet. Sweet enough to rot your teeth and give you cavities, and when you start laughing about it Dave does too, and as if it’s contagious a few giggles slip out of John’s mouth too. “Now that that’s done, I think we should go the fuck to sleep, because it’s five in the morning in earth time and I’m fuckin’ tired.” Dave groans, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically.

John wiggles closer to him, tangling their legs together once more. You shift closer and wrap your tail around John’s thigh, taloned fingers tapping out a beat against his collarbone. He leans back against you, but keeps his face hidden in Dave’s chest, and before you know it both of their breathing has slowed drastically and you know they’re asleep.

You kiss the back of John’s head, and miss the way he smiles in his sleep.

John _isn’t_ like you and Dave, and that’s why you both love him.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for a friend (the person it was gifted to, obviously) who told a john roleplayer that i wanted to ride into the sunset with them. it was fucking incredible. and dumb, but mostly incredible.
> 
> per usual, i don't exactly like the way this came out, but i'll live. this was my first time writing davejohndavesprite, but you can definitely look for more by me - this ship is absolutely precious!
> 
> if you've ever wanted me to write you something, or ask me anything, here's my tumblr: http://darkwinterwriter.tumblr.com/


End file.
